The Cache
by Earendilion
Summary: A winter's evening of companionship, repartee, reminiscing, and absolutely nothing in the Last Homely House.


It had started with a visit.

It was one of those deeply cold, gently snowy winter's nights which seem to naturally inspire a desire for companionship, late-night conversations, and soft, merry laughter. Bundled tightly down to a double layer of stockings, Estel had padded his way down the prematurely dusky halls of his home to his father's study, looking for just such an evening. The study, warmed by a roaring fire and thick velvet curtains which screened and insulated the high windows, was quite the oasis among the chilly corridors. Being one of two humans who resided at Imladris, he had never quite adjusted to the mid-winter chill that the Elves, failing to take notice, allowed to pervade the household during the colder months.

He had perched himself quite comfortably on the edge of his father's desk for some time, and they had chatted amiably about nothing as he warmed himself. They gradually migrated to the fireplace when first Elladan, then Elrohir found their way to the haven of their father's study as well. Preceded by the faint sounds of casual bickering, Glorfindel and Erestor arrived soon thereafter.

Each brought there by their own errands and wishes, little by little the family assembled, until they were all gathered around the hearth, cocooned in luxurious arm chairs and, in Estel's case, thick blankets, goblets of a dark spiced vintage aiding them in their daily unwinding.

Glorfindel and Erestor continued to squabble in their own companionable way, Glorfindel deliberately attempting to arouse his friend's notoriously barbed tongue, Erestor very subtly obliging him here and even more subtly crushing his ego there. Elrond's soft laughter, dark and deep and warm as the wine and the velvet curtains, provided a backdrop for the scene. Estel grinned out from his nest of comfort and warmth with bright eyes, the ever-present sparkle of mischief only accentuated by his heady drink. Elladan and Elrohir took pleasure in allowing their spines to defy propriety as they slouched and sprawled in their seats, already on their third servings.

"I believe this impromptu little get-together calls for a storytelling," Estel said when there was finally a lengthier lull in the repartee. "Oblige us, Erestor."

"You are too old to ask for stories, Estel," Erestor evaded smoothly, taking an appreciative sip of his drink and refusing to acknowledge the jibe behind the young man's eyes.

"There is no such thing," Estel countered. "The stories must simply grow with me."

"He has a point, Erestor," Glorfindel mused. "You spend your life in that library, under the guise of 'lore master.' It is basically the same concept."

"Hardly," Erestor began, but before he could point out the difference, Elladan broke in.

"Don't fight it, Erestor," he sighed lazily, stretching his long legs out before him, the picture of luxury. "You know the brat will get a story out of you eventually."

"He's your favorite, after all," Elrohir added.

"_Hardly_," Erestor repeated more firmly, though he didn't attempt to defend himself this time. After several moments of surveillance by five pairs of expectant eyes, he sighed and placed his goblet very gently on the small table before him. "Once upon a time, deep in the heart of a magic-bound wood, lived the most beautiful creature ever to grace the earth. Her name was Lúth-"

Every voice, including Elrond's, raised itself in a protesting groan.

"Is that the _only_ tale Elves know?" Estel demanded petulantly. "It is a dear story to me, truly, and laden with lore, but I _do_ sicken of it."

"I expected as much from one such as yourself, Estel," Erestor said coolly, voice dripping with disdain, "but not from you, wise one."

Elrond shrugged. "The boy has a point. The story is over-told, and hardly suited for the atmosphere."

"Too tragic," Glorfindel enumerated. "Too emotionally investing."

"Emotionally investing?" Erestor repeated, voice rising, clearly on the verge of quite a serious lecture. "Listen here, you shallow simpleton-"

"None of that," Elrond laughed. "You began the tale in jest, Erestor. What did you expect?"

"Yes, did you expect me to simply lie down and _take_ that kind of sarcasm?" Glorfindel shook his head disappointedly.

"Can we get on with it, please?" Elrohir broke in, shifting himself until he was lounging across his chair, head on one arm and legs slung over the other. "You pick the genre, then, Estel, since you're picky."

"_You_ didn't want the Lay of Lúthien either."

"_Pick_."

Estel was ready. "Adar."

"Yes?" Elrond said automatically.

"That is my genre. Adar. I have suspected for some time that both Erestor and Glorfindel have undiscovered caches of stories that would fall under it. _Fascinating_ stories." He grinned.

"You are quite mistaken then, my son," Elrond said smoothly as he refilled his goblet. "I was born this way – old and dusty."

Glorfindel snorted a laugh. "You were not old and dusty when you-" He choked unexpectedly on his next words as his lord reseated himself neatly.

Now Elladan and Elrohir's attentions had been seized as well, however.

"We suspected long before you, Estel," Elladan said, eyeing his father closely. "But we have yet to crack their shells."

"They have held to the credence that Adar dearest fell from the sky exactly as he said: old and dusty," Elrohir added. He flinched abruptly as Elrond's hand, too swift to be seen, skidded to a halt a hair's breadth from the back of his head.

"And still faster than you, my foolish son," the Elf-lord smiled. "Now, if we have finished with this ridiculous-"

"Nonsense, Elrond," Glorfindel said, clasping his hands on his stomach as a glint not unlike Estel's crept into his gaze. "I think the boys have a point. It is about time they were introduced to their father in his youth."

"Don't be absurd, Glorfindel," Elrond sighed in jaded tones. "We don't have time for this sort of-"

"What else have you to do?"

"Finish my missive to Thranduil, go over the inventory statements for this month, and murder you in cold blood, my friend, if necessary."

"If I may," Erestor said courteously. "What, exactly, do you have to hide, Elrond?"

Elrond stared at him, as did his sons. He had clearly expected neutrality at the least from Erestor – not a vote for Glorfindel.

"_That_," said Estel impishly, "is a very good question."

"I did a number of foolish things in my youth, as youth are wont to do," Elrond said slowly, choosing his words carefully with a tone of coolness and diplomacy. "I would much rather _not_ share my various, ah, lapses with my sons."

"We learn by example," Elladan wheedled.

"Exactly. And I prefer to set a good example."

"I can't imagine that any of your actions would ever have set a _poor_ example, Ada," Estel said, cocking his head innocently. "That's not what you are implying, is it?"

"Estel, I never said-"

"Tell us how you first met Ada," Estel demanded suddenly, cutting his father off and glowing with his victory.

Elrond stood. "I would prefer not to be united against in my own study," he said firmly. "Therefore, I bid you all goodnight. Please snuff the candles before you retire."

His sons' moans and pleadings did not faze him in the least as he strode to the door with a straight back and set chin. Glorfindel's less-than-a-whisper of "Coward" did, however. Elrond stopped with his hand on the door handle.

"I'm sorry, Lord Glorfindel, what was that?" he said in his most dangerous of voices as he turned very slowly.

"Elrond," Glorfindel said, employing his own most cajoling voice and lacing it with the leverage that comes from the oldest of friendships. "Come. Sit down and enjoy tonight's excellent company, not to mention the vintage. You know you are curious. We are very sorry if you felt attacked, but do you honestly think that Erestor or I would divulge anything sensitive? Though I must admit, those are the more, ah, _interesting_ recollections…."

Erestor smiled very faintly into his drink as three pairs of eyes brightened even further.

A long silence followed in which Glorfindel and Elrond maintained an intense eye contact, Elrond's gaze hard and wary, Glorfindel's kind and reassuring, if a little amused. It was the former who relented with a heavy sigh in the end and ghosted dejectedly back to his chair, preparing himself for the worst.

"Now," Glorfindel said, suddenly all business, "Erestor knew your father before I did-"

"But you knew his ancestors, did you not, Glorfindel?" Estel asked, for once with a genuine kind of curiosity that was not meant to incite a reaction.

"I did," the old Elf admitted, "but we are talking about _him_, not his relatives."

Elrond relaxed visibly.

"Though I _will_ tell you that his grandfather had a very strange habit of… never mind," he chuckled, eyeing Elrond like a cat toying with a mouse. "Erestor, if you please."

The advisor cleared his throat. "I first met your father very soon after the War of Wrath. I was, as you know, a captain in Gil-galad's navy, and had been tasked with partial diplomacy towards and partial exploration of the new coast line. We had recently made berth at the newly founded, but already quite active Lond Daer. Now, Gil-galad already knew of and was in contact with the settlement there, and so we were merely stopping to restock for the journey back to Lindon."

"From whence?" Estel inquired eagerly.

"We had gone down to the peninsula of Andrast, but that is another story," he added as Estel opened his mouth again. "As I was saying. I was at the helm, overseeing the general-"

"Being a controlling perfectionist," Glorfindel hissed to Elrohir.

"Do you want a story or not?" Erestor barked, finally losing his patience.

Murmured apologies from everyone save the most recent offender.

"I shall have it out of you, Glorfindel, or I shall retire," Erestor said icily.

Glorfindel immediately leapt to attention and gave a flourishing bow. "I am most deeply sorrowful for my offense against your honor, and I beg thee continue while I quietly smother my shame in the corner."

Elladan stifled a laugh unsuccessfully. Nose in the air, Erestor seemed to accept this as the best apology he was going to receive and continued.

"It did not escape me that, amidst the commotion, a lone figure from the wharf had strayed up the gangplank. Naturally, two of my men stopped him. I expected him to be gone when I next turned, but instead, I received word that this stranger wished to speak to me. Apparently, he needed passage to Lindon because he had urgent business with Gil-Galad.

"I was, as you might expect, intensely irritated, but I trusted the judgment of my man and followed him to the gangplank, where I was to meet the scrap of an Elf who was to become your father."

Glorfindel laughed, but Elrond simply smiled quietly to himself.

"A scrap?" Elladan chuckled.

"Well, he was straight out of adolescence and had not yet grown into the long limbs that run in your line. It did not help his cause that he had been wandering the wild for many months, and looked the part. I seem to recall a certain… _odor-_"

"I was shabby, Erestor, not smelly," Elrond interrupted in a dignified voice as his sons rolled in their seats.

The advisor simply shrugged. "I shall take your word for it. I originally planned to turn him away, and made a valiant attempt, I will have you know, but if there was one thing your father _had_ grown into, it was that hereditary stubbornness."

"Elrond? Stubborn? Never," Glorfindel frowned, though he couldn't keep his mouth from twitching.

"How did he convince you, Erestor?" Estel asked curiously. He knew well that if anyone was a match for his father's obstinacy, it was the old seafarer.

Erestor's dark, glinting eyes turned to the boy, his face very solemn. "He told me his name."

A hush fell, the gravity of his words striking them all.

"His full name," Erestor elaborated. "I shall never forget the moment I heard the words come out of his mouth: Elrond Peredhel Eärendilion. We all knew who Eärendil was, of course, and we all knew that he had had sons. But so little had been seen or heard from them since the sack of Sirion that most had come to believe the Peredhel were a myth."

"And what did you believe, Erestor?" Elrond asked in a deep, quiet voice.

"I? I believed that if there was anyone to fit the description of one of the Peredhel, it was the bedraggled boy with a chip on his shoulder standing before me." He paused, surveying his lord for several breaths. He sighed. "I also knew that Gil-galad held firmly to the belief that the Peredhel were not myths and, what is more, still alive. Though he did not publicize it, I knew in confidence that he had a cheeky, obnoxious fellow – whose name escapes me – as a military general whose sole mission was to locate them and bring them to safety."

"You, Glorfindel," Estel said in awed tones, putting the pieces together and turning to the marshal with wide eyes.

Glorfindel grinned. "What gave it away?"

"The adjectives, I'm sure," Erestor growled warningly. "In any case, I could hardly leave behind the boy for whom my king had been searching for many _yen_, who had also so conveniently strolled onto my front doorstep. We took him along. Though I must say," he glanced up at Elrond, his tone lightening, "I certainly expected you to have finer sea legs."

Elrond laughed heartily. "As did I! But I never was and never will be the mariners my father and brother were. I remember – I couldn't hold down a meal for a fortnight." He smiled fondly at the memories. "I was quite the laughing stock."

His sons gazed at him wonderingly. They rarely heard their father speak about his father or brother, and when they did, it was hardly with warmth in his voice.

"I disagree," Erestor countered. "You were able enough in the end."

"'Able enough' scarcely constitutes sea-worthy."

"You saved a man's life."

"You saved someone's life?" Estel repeated with so much wonder in his voice that the others burst into another round of raucous laughter. "I didn't mean it like that," he said loudly, rolling his eyes. "I know you've saved thousands of lives-"

Elrond laid a hand still shaking with mirth on his son's head. "I know, Estel," he chuckled. "No offense taken. Besides, I told the crew and I told _you_, Erestor, that I saved no lives that night. If Nethon hadn't stepped in-"

Erestor ignored him and said firmly to Estel, "He saved his mentor's life, but was washed overboard in the process. Now _that_," he sat back with the faintest glint of the thrill of adventure behind his eyes, "was a storm."

"Who saved his life, then, if he was washed overboard during a storm?" Elrohir pried.

"Erestor did," Elrond supplied when the advisor remained silent. "And with considerable panache, I might add."

"Erestor had panache?" Elladan muttered behind his hand to Glorfindel, who grinned.

"Keep in mind that Elrond was half drowned at the time," the marshal whispered back.

"Your turn, Glorfindel," Erestor said in a clear, ringing voice. "Tell the boys how their father went behind your back to single-handedly thwart a conspiracy against the throne."

Glorfindel's face colored with righteous indignation as Elrond laughed again. "The insolent brat did no such thing," he said irritably. "He _did_ go behind my back, but succeeded only in complicating the matter which I and my network had under complete and total control."

Erestor simply smiled slyly.

"And don't pretend you knew what happened, you fox. I saw you make for your ship with your tail between your legs like a rabbit smoked from its hole at the mere _mention_ of Celebrimbor's delegation."

The advisor's hold on his dignity did not slip in the slightest as he took a deep pull from his goblet.

Estel, however, had tired of the banter as soon as such an adventure as conspiracy was mentioned. "Tell us what really happened, Glorfindel," he said, almost breathless in his eagerness.

The marshal smiled indulgently. "You yourself mentioned our cache of stories, Estel."

The boy nodded fervently.

"Well, then, we must make it last. I will, therefore, save that scintillating tale for another night." He grinned and winked.


End file.
